


Infection

by ManicRavingsofaLunatic



Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Futurefic, Gen, Tragedy, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicRavingsofaLunatic/pseuds/ManicRavingsofaLunatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its two days before the end of Gotham City. The amount of Infected far outnumber the few survivors. The risk of the quarantine failing is too high. There is no cure. "In forty-eight hours they're wiping out the city. And I don't want to be here when that MOAB goes off."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DAY ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place over three days from Xmas Eve 2014 (four years post season one and totally ignoring season 2) For the characters of Barbara and Jason I have taken some canon from The Killing Joke and A Death in the Family respectively. This is the result of me wanting to write a Christmas story, but being totally incapable of writing fluff...

**18.00pm – December 24th 2014  
** **Forty-Nine Hours to Detonation**

Thou shalt not kill.

That was the very first rule that Batman had taught Robin. Eight years ago when Bruce had helped Dick track down Tony Zucco; when the young boy had looked his parents' killer in the eyes, Bruce had taught him the difference between justice and revenge. Ever since then Dick had always followed that golden rule. Batman and Robin did not kill.

But that was then. Now? Well, now concepts as frivolous as 'justice' and 'revenge' didn't mean a whole lot to anyone.

Now it was about survival.

"Arty!" Dick shouted, knowing that he was making himself a target and not particularly caring. They were surrounded, the alleyway making a choke point and giving them little room to move. Artemis was being overrun, and even as Dick fought off his own horde he watched the blonde disappear under the onslaught. "Arty, NO!"

With a vicious backhand he dropped the man trying to bite his arm and then took out the replacement that popped up with a drop kick, all the time working his way over to where he had last seen Artemis. He could still hear her screaming defiantly, and just as he finally made it to her side of the alley, he found that his assistance was unneeded. The tide of seething bodies was pushed back, Artemis swiping at them with a pair of wicked looking hunting knives. She grinned at him. "Aww, you do care."

Dick rolled his eyes at her. "Don't know what you're talking about," he retorted as he grabbed up a trash can lid and brought it down hard on a snarling woman's head. "I wasn't at all worried."

Artemis smirked at him, though her attention never wavered from the battle raging around them. Their assailants may have been mindless, raging shells of human beings, but they still had enough sense to take advantage of the openings created by lapses in focus.

They tried to avoid the 'Z' word, but essentially that is what the Infected became. They still looked human; two eyes, two arms, two legs, but they were anything but. At first the only physical sign of the change (aside from the obvious behavioural issues) had been the eyes: their pupils were constantly dilated like drug addicts, the iris creating a thin band of red around the outside. But about a month ago, the Infected had suddenly started growing fangs and sprouting claws – all the better to eat people with, Dick guessed. Darwinism at its best.

A heavy weight landed on Dick's back, enough to send the average man to his knees though it did little more than set the acrobat off balance. He staggered, attempting to fend off a deranged man in a police uniform even as the hitch hiker on his back sunk its claws deep into his shoulders. Dick yelled in frustration and pain as he palmed a blade from his swiss-army jacket and retaliated.

With a side swipe he slit the police officer's throat. Then he flipped the hitch hiker over his shoulder and onto the concrete. He dropped to his knees and buried the knife up to the hilt in the hitch hiker's eye.

Thou shalt not kill.

The hitch hiker had been a woman, maybe in her early twenties, with curly blonde hair and fair skin. She had probably been quite pretty once, before the too-long fangs had sliced her lips open and her manicured nails had mutated into hideous talons. With a resigned sigh, Dick pulled the knife out of her eye socket, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

It was then that the woman reverted back to normal. The fangs retracted, the claws vanished, and her one remaining red eye faded back to a dull hazel. That was the worst part of the virus. After death it would just disappear without a visible trace; leaving you with a far more human corpse than the monster you had just killed. Making _you_ look like the monster.

Dick committed the young woman's face to memory, as he did with every person whose life he took. He didn't know why he tortured himself like that. Maybe it was because if he felt remorse and guilt then he would know that _he_ wasn't the monster. Maybe it was because it kept him human.

An arrow whizzed past his ear and embedded deep into the throat of the Infected man about to kill him. Dick glanced over at Artemis who was glaring at him disapprovingly. "Get your head in the game, Grayson!"

Dick nodded and did as he was told, launching himself back into the fight.

This nightmare had begun less than a year ago, with Jonathan Crane a.k.a. Scarecrow. He had been both the creator of the virus and its first victim, the ex-Arkham doctor receiving an unhealthy dose of his own medicine. It turned out that the latest and final version of his fear toxin was a whole lot more potent and contagious than he had intended.

The reason that they avoided the 'Z' word was because it wasn't accurate. The Infected were not the walking dead, they weren't reanimated corpses. The virus decimated the intellectual mind. It essentially devolved its victims; regressing them back to their most primal instincts. It destroyed their higher brain function and reduced them down to their mammalian brain. Pure animal instinct.

Within hours of the outbreak half of the city had been infected. The government had ordered a city-wide quarantine to contain the spread - all bridges and tunnels connecting the islands of Gotham to the mainland were destroyed with extreme prejudice. The city was declared off-limits, leaving the few thousand or so uninfected survivors to fend for themselves. Now less than two hundred uninfected remained; surviving only on the monthly aid drops so generously provided by the U.S Government.

Today was Christmas Eve, and someone had decided to give the failing city a gift. A second drop in the same month. It had never happened before - Dick and Artemis hadn't been prepared to protect the remaining sane citizens as they made their desperate runs for the much needed supplies, and the Infected had capitalised.

Generally, the Infected were nocturnal, preferring to hunt at night - packs of them prowling the city like wolves. But they had quickly learned what the bright parachutes falling from the sky meant. They knew that when it rained like that their food source would be out in the open. Easy pickings.

So now the two ex-sidekicks fought tooth and nail to hold back the horde while Gothamites swarmed to the aid box like bees to honey.

The chute had landed on the roof of the cinema, but the building had no roof access from the inside, forcing the survivors to use the fire escape in the alley. Before Dick and Artemis had arrived it had been a blood bath. Half-eaten bodies were strewn among the executed Infected, filling the small space and making it even more difficult to manoeuvre. But the two had stuck at it until only a few stragglers remained to pick the contents of the aid pack clean.

A scream echoed through the alley, and Dick spun to look. A mother and child had descended the rusted ladder, the small girl clinging to her mother's shoulders as she rode on her back. They had just made it back to ground level when an Infected woman had launched at them and sunk her fangs into the little girl's arm. Instantly Dick had a throwing knife in his hand, the blade severing the woman's spinal cord. But the damage had already been done.

The mother gathered her hysterical daughter in her arms and sunk back against the brick wall until she held her in her lap. She hugged the girl close, pressing her small tear-stained face against her shoulder. After a moment, the little girl tried to fight her way free of the hold, but the mother refused. She stared up at the overcast sky, praying to whichever deity she believed in until finally her daughter stilled. She then pressed a kiss to her hair and lay the little girl down on the concrete, before hitching the bag of supplies over her shoulder and running away.

It seemed like a cruel thing to do, but Dick had long since learned that the mother's actions had been a mercy.

One bite was all it took. Then came several hours of agony as slowly the brain began to shut down and the claws and fangs would grow. Then you would no longer know the concept of 'friend' or 'family' – all you would see is food.

Dick kept a gun in the holster inside his jacket just in case he ever got bitten. It was the same one that he had used that day seven months ago. There was just one bullet in the chamber – that was all he would need.

"They're pulling back!" Artemis called at him, and Dick realised that she was right. The remaining Infected scarpered back to the street and vanished to their dens. Now that more of them were dying than eating and most of their easy prey had gone, there was nothing for them to hang around for. Dick took a moment to take stock of his injuries, glancing up when he sensed a shadow on the fire escape above them.

"I guess They knew I was coming," Jason Todd, the ex-second Robin, said cockily as he leaned on the railing and looked down at them. Artemis scowled at him before turning back to the carnage. She began retrieving the arrows that could be reused from the bodies, returning them to her quiver.

Dick looked up at Jason. "What are you doing here?"

Jason showed off his full back pack. "I saw the chutes falling and thought I'd better get in there quick before it was all gone. Figured your little sky-cave could do with restocking since you insist on protecting those parasites instead of saving yourselves."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Those 'parasites' are all that's left of the city. And since when did you share? You always hoard supplies for your safe houses."

"Yeah, well," Jason shrugged. "Turns out I'm not gonna need them much longer."

Artemis stood up, a blood-stained arrow held loosely in her hand. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I've got a contact on the outside – managed to get a message through the blackout," Jason explained vaguely. "The government's cutting its losses in true American style. In forty-eight hours they're wiping Gotham off the map. And I'd rather not be here when that MOAB goes off; figured Dickie-bird here would have a plan like he always does."

Artemis turned on Dick expectantly, making the dark-haired teen sigh. "Did you know that this was coming?"

"Honestly?" Dick replied sardonically. "I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner."

"So there's a plan, right?" Jason asked, trying to sound eager but barely concealing the hint of desperation in his voice.

"Yeah, Jay," Dick muttered. "There's a plan."

* * *

 

**21.00pm  
Forty-Seven Hours to Detonation**

In the beginning, there had been no shortage on offers to help Gotham City in its time of greatest need. The World Health Organisation had been working tirelessly on a cure while countries worldwide were collecting their funds together to send aid. Despite Batman's usual insistence that the city was off-limits to other heroes, he had asked for help from the Justice League.

And that had been where it all went wrong.

The initial spread of the virus was like nothing anyone had ever seen. The Infected were building up there numbers, ignoring their hunger and simply biting everyone they met. By the end of the first day the ratio of Infected to Uninfected greatly favoured the former, leaving the city in a state of uncontrollable panic.

And then Superman had descended from the sky over Gotham River, and every single one of the Infected had gone nuts. They were drawn to the Kryptonian like flies to a bug zapper. They tried to reach for him – to eat or to turn no one really knew. In their desperation they started jumping into the water – hundreds of them drowning in the strong currents.

Superman had watched in horror as his mere presence caused the mass suicide of three-hundred and eighty two people. Then he had flown away and insisted that no other hero, particularly those with the meta-gene, went anywhere near the city.

After that, the desire to help had waned somewhat. The government had insisted that it was still trying to find a cure; that it hadn't given up hope – but then five months in the quarantine zone had had a complete communications blackout. Gotham City was totally cut off from the outside world. If it weren't for the monthly aid drops, it would be as if it had never existed.

The last few heroes of Gotham were on their own.

"So it's true then?" Barbara Gordon asked. She had once been Batgirl, but an encounter with the Joker not long before the outbreak had left her paralysed from the waist down. She had briefly taken up the mantle of Oracle, essentially the Bat family's tech support, but gone were the days of the cape and cowl. Now she was just Barbara. "They're really going to bomb the city?"

On the screen the fuzzy face of Superman looked down at them through the static. Barbara was a tech-whizz after all, she wouldn't let something as trivial as a communications blackout stop her from contacting the League. "Our liaison to the White House has confirmed the strike," Clark Kent replied regretfully. "A squadron of F22s are dropping the bombs at 1900 hours on Boxing Day."

"Hey, at least they gave us Christmas," Dick said sarcastically, earning himself twin glares from both Artemis and Barbara.

"So, are you gonna help us, Boy Scout?" Jason asked, though his tone indicated that he already knew the answer.

Clark looked away, the connection breaking up for a few seconds before he responded. "The President has given the League strict orders not to interfere…"

"What about the team? Isn't that why you formed it in the first place? To do the things that the League can't?" Jason interrupted, getting increasingly louder. Dick placed a hand on his arm to warn him to tone it down, but the younger Robin just shrugged him off. "I know you've gone and replaced us already. I guess you don't really care if we go up with the city, huh?"

"Jason…" Clark tried, but he didn't really have a response that wouldn't make the teenager even angrier.

"Jay," Dick interceded. "We don't need the League's help on this end."

Jason looked up at him confused. "Then why did you tell Babs to contact the League?"

"Because we'll need their help later," Dick explained. "I know a way out of the city; the hard part is going to be crossing the quarantine line…"

"Wait, hold up," Jason grabbed Dick's arm and turned him. "All this time you've known a way out of this hell hole?! Why the fuck are we still here?! We could have blown this shit stand when this disaster started!"

Artemis stepped up and divided the two of them, and then turned on Dick. "I am only ever going to say this once. But the psycho kind of has a point. Why didn't you tell us?"

Jason growled lowly at the psycho comment, but couldn't really deny it. A year after Dick had traded up to Nightwing and Jason had taken over as the second Robin, he had had his own run in with the Joker. Hours of torture with a crowbar and a bomb later, he had become a _dead_ Robin. Thanks to Thalia Al Ghul and her father's Lazarus Pits he had been resurrected; but he had also come back with some slight anger management issues and a whole new perspective on how crime fighting should be done. This had led to some disagreements between him and Bruce, to put it lightly.

"Because the risk was too high," Dick replied, though he wouldn't look any of them in the eye. "If a single one of the Infected got out we could be responsible for turning the rest of the world into this."

"Dick is right," Clark agreed.

"Of course you'd say that, you can't wait for us to burn, can you Supey?" Jason spat. "You can't wait for this whole thing to be over so you don't have to deal with Gotham anymore."

"Would you all just stop, please?" Barbara said forcefully, spinning her wheelchair so that she could glare at all of them, particularly Jason. "It doesn't matter, alright? We can't change what's already happened so stop arguing about it already and focus on what we _can_ change. So, Dick, how do we get out of the city?"

Dick gave Babs a grateful look. "Tunnels are more expensive to rebuild than bridges. Even when they were cutting the city off, the government was thinking of cheaper ways of rebuilding Gotham after. They blew up all the bridges, but Novick Tunnel? They just blew the entrances. If we put some explosives in the right places, we've got ourselves a way out. That's not the problem."

"Do I want to know what _is_ the problem?" Artemis asked cynically.

"Getting out is easy," Dick answered. "Getting in to the rest of New Jersey is going to be the hard part. They've had the Coast Guard patrolling the river to stop people trying to escape by boat, and they've got helicopters overhead maintaining the quarantine. When we blow the tunnel, they're going to have a firing squad waiting for us on the other side."

"That is where you want the League's help," Clark surmised.

"Exactly," Dick confirmed. "There's a couple hundred uninfected left that we know of. When they start pouring out of the tunnel, the cops are going to think Zombies and shoot first and ask questions never…"

"Wait, wait," Jason interrupted again. "You want to take the city _with us_? Are you _insane_ or is that just your hero complex talking?"

"We've been fighting for these people for years," Babs pointed out, wheeling herself towards the irate Jason. "We chose to become heroes to protect them. We've _lost_ people because we believe that we are doing the right thing. Turning our backs on the city now… it would make their sacrifices pointless."

"Have we not given enough?" Jason demanded. "You lost your legs, your independence, your ability to go to the bathroom unaided. Hell, I fucking _died_. All because we thought that the hero gig sounded like fun. Why can't we save ourselves just this once?! Why would that be so bad? Why do we have to save everyone but us?!"

Barbara looked down at her useless legs, refusing to let her hurt show on her face. She felt a shadow fall over her as Dick stepped between her and Jason. "Because it's what we do. It's what Bruce would do."

Jason glared at each and every one of them, as if waiting for one of them to see his side. When no one did, he just scoffed disbelievingly. "You are all crazy. This city is going to burn, and you are going down with it, all because you can't let go of the crappy morals that Bruce forced on you. The guy is dead and yet you still follow him blindly! I've already learned that he was wrong. I hope you guys figure it out too before it's too late."

And with that he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.

Barbara sighed heavily, and then wheeled herself back to the bank of computers that she had cobbled together with Dick's help. The screen that had once shown Superman's face was now blank, the connection having been lost at some point during the argument. "We lost the feed to the Watch Tower. I might be able to get it back…"

"Don't bother," Dick said despondently, though he tried to force a reassuring smile. It had been so long since she had seen that mischievous grin of his. It always used to fill her with such dread, warning her that some prank of his making was about to blow up at her… but now she'd give anything to see it again. They had all become such empty shells of what they had once been. Sometimes she wondered if they were any better off that the Infected that they fought against. "Clark will be where we need him."

"And if he's not?" Babs asked uncertainly. "What if we fail?"

Dick shrugged. "At least we can say we tried."

* * *

 

**00.00am  
Forty-Three Hours to Detonation**

Wally West was not a resident of Gotham City. He shouldn't have been there when the quarantine was enforced. But he was. He had run all the way from Central City in his rented tux just to take his girlfriend of two years to her senior prom.

Artemis remembered the way that his jaw had dropped when she had opened the door wearing her dress, stunning the talkative speedster into a rare case of speechlessness. She had laughed at him, kissed him, and forcefully led him out of her apartment building and to the taxi she had called – knowing full well that he had run there without thinking about how they would get to the school.

And that was the last good memory she had of him.

But it was never the memory that haunted her dreams.

Soon after the Outbreak, Wally had designated himself the one who would find the cure. He was a scientific genius after all, even if he came across as a complete doofus more often than not. He worked on it all the time, hardly ever leaving Wayne Towers. The two of them had grown apart as his obsession grew – a fact that pained her so much now.

Three months after the Outbreak, Wally managed to create the first version of the cure. They had tested it on an Infected Bruce Wayne. It didn't work.

And so Wally had gone back to the drawing board, losing himself completely in his work. He barely ate, he only slept when he passed out from exhaustion… he was falling apart, and it hurt Artemis to watch it happen. So she had begged Dick to help her. She had convinced him that he should cajole Wally into joining them on patrol one night. But they had underestimated the effect of the meta-gene on the Infected. Tired and weakened, Wally hadn't been fast enough. He had been bitten.

Barbara had taken over work on the cure as Artemis had watched over Wally. There was a panic room in the building that they used as a cell (they had learned from previous mistakes) where they kept him. Artemis had insisted on staying in there with him. Talking to him for hours, trying to stop all of his memories from fading. But there was nothing that she could do.

Wally had looked up at her with those horrible red eyes, baring his teeth and growling. She had backed up against the wall in fear, but she still refused to leave the room. She stared him in the eyes, trying to find any part of her boyfriend that remained. But there wasn't any. All that was left was a monster that wore Wally's face.

When he had leapt at her, she had reacted on instinct. Dick had insisted that she keep her crossbow on her if she was going to stay with Wally. Later, she wasn't sure if she was glad or miserable that he had. All she knew was that she had put an arrow through her boyfriend's eye.

Artemis startled awake, gasping for breath and disorientated. After a moment, she brought her breathing back under control, reassured that she was in her room in Wayne Towers and that she was safe. Relatively.

In the middle of winter the corporate building was freezing, but Artemis could feel the cold sweat on her skin. She was trembling violently, and as she reached for the bottle of water beside her camp bed she accidently knocked it on the floor. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and tried to force her shivering body to still. When that didn't work, she climbed onto shaky feet, collecting up a cardigan to wrap around her shoulders.

Shell shock. Survivor's guilt. Whatever it was called that kept her awake at night; there was only one thing that she knew that could stop the shakes. Her feet knew the way there automatically, which she was glad for as all her brain seemed capable of doing was replaying that last moment with Wally over and over again.

She pushed open the door to Dick's room, pausing at the threshold as she watched him caught in the horrors of his own nightmares. He thrashed about on his bed, his covers long ago strewn on the carpet, Romani gibberish escaping between low groans of pain. Quietly, she closed the door behind her and made her way over to his bed, perching herself on the thin mattress beside him. Instantly, Dick had the knife that he kept under his pillow in his hand and swinging at her, but she caught his arm.

"Dick, is me…" she whispered as his blue eyes gradually cleared of the haze of restless sleep. He blinked up at her, and then realised what he was doing and let her take the knife off of him.

"Another nightmare, Arty?" Dick muttered, pushing himself upright so that he was leaning against the wall. "You know it wasn't your fault."

Artemis scowled. "Just like what happened to Bruce wasn't your fault?"

Dick looked away. They both had demons that they carried. There was no way not to when trapped in a reality like this one. Without a word, Artemis lay down beside him and rested her head against his shoulder, drawing in his warmth. She imagined what Wally would think if he could see her now, cuddling with his best friend. She didn't think that he'd mind. She and Dick weren't like that – they were friends that had been through hell but hadn't quite found the exit yet.

"In two days, it's really going to be over, isn't it?" Artemis asked, breaking the silence.

She felt Dick sigh beneath her, his hand automatically coming up to play with her hair as he held her. "One way or another," he replied distantly.

"Is it bad that I don't mind which one?"

"No," Dick said after a moment. "It's been tough and we're just exhausted now. We need this to end."

Artemis thought he was understating that just a little bit. After everything the past year had thrown at them, 'tough' nowhere near covered it. They had been put through the wringer, both physically and emotionally. They simply couldn't take anything else. Any ending would be a blessing.

As they lay there together in companionable silence, Artemis' eyes drifted to the digital clock beside the bed. It was already two in the morning. She smiled sadly and nudged Dick.

"Hey Grayson… Merry Christmas."


	2. DAY TWO

**06.00am – December 25th 2014  
Thirty-Seven Hours to Detonation**

Mornings were difficult for Barbara. They were humiliating and depressing, and always seemed to go on forever as every menial task took her so very long to complete. She would try and do as much as she could on her own. She would drag herself out of her camp bed and into that cursed wheelchair that Dick always left right next to it. Her unresponsive legs would often get tangled as she twisted round in the seat, so she would have to manually straighten them out.

There was nothing quite as horrific as having a body part that felt as if it didn't belong to you.

She would then wheel down the cold and empty corridors of Wayne Towers with her clean clothes and a towel folded on her lap, heading towards the staff showers. She would always pause for a moment outside of Dick's room, torturing herself a little every day as she opened the door and took a look inside. Artemis wouldn't always be with him - Babs knew that they weren't together - but it still hurt when she saw the blonde archer wrapped in his arms.

She had kinda always had a crush on Dick, ever since she had first met him at some society function her father had forced her to attend. When they had gone to the same school they had grown close, and when she had become Batgirl they had grown even closer. But he just didn't see her that way. Not anymore.

He didn't do it intentionally. Babs knew that. But ever since she had ended up stuck in that chair, the way he looked at her had changed. Instead of respect, it was always a look of sympathy when he helped her into bed at night. Instead of attraction, it was distance as he helped her change, or picked her up when she fell in the shower. He was trying to make it less awkward that he was seeing her at her most vulnerable. He had no idea how much it really hurt her.

Ever since the Outbreak, Barbara had worked out as many ways as she could to become as independent as possible. She wanted to make herself useful, instead of the dead weight that she felt that she was. So she did what she did best with the computers. She learned how to shoot like a pro so that she could defend herself. She continued Wally's work on the cure, just in case. She did as much as she was physically able to do for herself.

She didn't want to ask for help.

The Wayne Tower's staff showers were like the communal ones in a school changing room. It was essentially one room with five showers, the entire thing tiled with something expensive and the spotlighting casting everything in blue. Babs wheeled herself in and closed the door behind her for privacy. But she never locked it. She was all too aware of her own shortcomings after all.

The wheels always skidded a little on the tiles, but she was used to that by now. She made it to the middle shower and turned the faucet so that the water could get warm while she undressed. Once she was ready, she parked the chair and lowered herself onto the tiles, before dragging herself under the torrent. She sat there for a moment, just letting the water cascade over her shoulders, washing away her doubts and fears and clearing her head.

Once she was finished, she stretched up and turned the shower off before heaving herself back over to the chair. But just as she reached for the clean clothes on the seat, her supporting hand slipped from under her on the wet tile. She grabbed instinctively to save herself, but all she managed to do was knock over the chair and she still smacked her shoulder hard into the tiles.

Barbara pushed herself back up again to find the wheelchair had skidded over two metres away, and her once-dry clothes were now soaking up the puddles on the floor. She cursed under her breath and picked the clothes up, but they were well and truly sodden. She couldn't carry them and get to the chair at the same time, so she abandoned them with a growl and dragged her naked body over to the chair. But the brakes had failed, and every time she tried to haul herself up, the chair would slip away and drop her back on the tiles.

She chewed her lip to stop the tears that threatened to fall and focused on her anger. "This is going to be a really shit day," she grumbled under her breath.

It was on the tenth failed try to get back into her chair that Babs gave up. She sat there, exposed, cold, vulnerable and alone, hating herself and cursing the Joker and internally ranting about every crappy thing about her life.

"Babs?" Dick called as he rapped lightly on the door. She couldn't bring herself to use her voice, afraid that a sob would escape instead of words. The door opened slowly, Dick not wanting to intrude. "Babs? Are you alright?"

Barbara considered that question for a moment, before answering with brutal honesty. "No."

Instantly, Dick was by her side, wrapping a dry towel around her shivering shoulders. He let her dry herself, knowing that she hated having that indignity done for her; while he picked up her clothes and fixed her chair. And then he was next to her again, scooping her up in his arms and holding her close. He didn't complain when her wet hair soaked his shirt, nor did he mention the fact that she was naked under the towel. He just lowered her into her seat and wheeled her silently back to her room.

By the time that he had helped her into a dry set of clothes, Barbara had let the tears fall freely down her face. Dick knelt down in front of her chair, and clasped her mother's chain that she always wore around her neck, her parents' wedding rings resting lightly against her sternum. And then he pressed a kiss to her cheek and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Are you alright now, Babs?"

She nodded and smiled sadly. "What would I do without you, Dick?"

"You'd be fine," he answered with a very watered down version of his old grin. "You're a lot stronger than you think."

* * *

**14.00pm  
Twenty-Nine Hours to Detonation**

"So, if this was a normal Christmas, and the past year hadn't happened, what would you be doing right now?" Artemis asked suddenly, breaking their silence and travelled through the deserted streets of Gotham.

Dick quirked a brow at her, a little surprised that she would ask that question. But Artemis seemed to genuinely want to know the answer, rather than just making small talk, so he shrugged. "Bruce didn't really do Christmas. He'd throw a huge party the night before to keep up appearances but come Christmas morning he'd just be a right Scrooge."

"Yeah, but what about _you?_ " she asked, prodding him in the shoulder for emphasis. "You're such a big kid, I bet you go nuts at Christmas."

"Not really," Dick replied self-consciously. "I don't really remember any Christmases before Bruce took me in, and every year after that I would always spend the day with Alfred and Leslie helping out at the soup kitchen in the Narrows."

"Really?" Artemis asked, a little surprised. "A rich kid like you?"

Dick rolled his eyes at her. They both knew that he wasn't exactly the typical spoiled brat of the wealthy variety, but that didn't mean that she didn't like to poke fun at him about his financial status. _Ex_ -financial status. "Money doesn't exactly mean a whole lot here anymore," he muttered as they crossed Finger River, the freezing wind blowing in from the harbour chilling them both to the bone. "What about you? What would you be doing?"

"Yeah..." Artemis drawled unenthusiastically. "Christmas in the Crock/Nyugen family home was not exactly picture perfect. We usually all ended up arguing... if any of them even showed up for the dinner I would cook... Let's just say there was never a good one."

Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her. "So.. this Christmas, hanging out with me... tracking down survivors while time ticks down to a huge bomb strike in a city full of zombies... this is an improvement for us, right?"

Artemis grinned and hugged him back. "Oh hell yeah! Best Christmas _ever."_

"Well then, Merry Christmas, Arty," Dick said as he pressed a kiss on her hair. As buildings began to loom over them again once they crossed over the bridge, the pair of them parted as both of them went back to being on alert.

"This is the last place, right?" Artemis asked as they entered the once-clean streets of the Upper East Side, studying the cold, empty houses warily. The Infected may have been nocturnal, but that didn't mean that they never came out in the daylight. "Because rich people houses freak me out."

Dick threw her a sideways look and smirked. "You got something against the formerly wealthy?"

"Not particularly," she shrugged, eyeing a particularly big renovated brownstone suspiciously, as if it might grow legs and chase them. "I just don't like their houses. They're unnecessarily huge and full of pointless junk and way too many shadows. It's like the ghosts have more personality than the owners."

"Wayne Manor creeped you out then?"

"Big time," Artemis replied, shivering at the memory of the massive house waiting just outside of the quarantine zone. "It was those old portraits with the eyes that follow you and the suits of armour that always looked moments away from killing you. Didn't it scare you when you first moved in? You were like, nine, right?"

Dick shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I did grow up in a circus. There were plenty of freakier things at Haly's, trust me."

Artemis studied him like a psychiatrist. "Hmmm… I'm beginning to understand why you're so messed up…"

Dick just rolled his eyes at her, and then snapped to attention when he heard something rattle from down an alleyway. He listened for a moment, but the noise never sounded again. He looked back at Artemis to find the archer had notched an arrow in a millisecond. Slowly, she lowered her bow, though the caution never left her grey eyes. "It's just something moving in the wind," Dick muttered.

"You know what, even when we get out of this hell hole I'm still going to be jumping at every noise," Artemis whispered as she scanned the area just to make sure. "They're gonna have me locked up in the loony bin for paranoia or something."

"Anything's better than here," Dick replied. "Come on, the last refuge is just up here."

The two of them had spent the whole morning going to all of the safe houses that they knew of where uninfected refugees were holing up. Every time they were met with cries of outrage and fear as they told the people left of Gotham that the Government was going to level the city. That initial anger was generally followed by resignation, until Dick started telling them of their plan to escape.

It was the first time in a long time that the two heroes had seen hope in the faces of the people.

They had found a couple of demolition experts among the survivors who said that they would know the best way to blow the tunnel and volunteered themselves to help. In every group of refugees, there were always a few among them that had designated themselves as the protectors or fighters of the group; and soon Dick and Artemis had amassed themselves a small army willing to defend the others while they blew the tunnel. Dick couldn't believe how well the plan was coming together.

He was beginning to think that they might actually have a chance of pulling this off.

But then he walked straight through the decimated defences of the last refugee stronghold, and his good mood vanished. A group of fifty-three uninfected had been living out of the manor house, but he was pretty sure that they were anymore. Dick had always figured that they were pretty safe. The house sat on a big plot of land surrounded by tall wrought iron fences that had been topped with razor wire. Across the grounds were loads of booby-traps and pits… even the occasional landmine. And that was before you even got to the manor's state of the art security system.

And yet as he and Artemis walked through the once-beautiful, now-deadly, garden they could see how an Infected horde had bypassed it all. Over a dozen were caught in the traps; some even still alive and whining at them pitifully. Artemis put them all out of their collective misery with her crossbow. "How far do you reckon They got?" she asked quietly as she silenced the last one.

Dick saw the wide open front door and sighed. "All the way."

Artemis followed his line of sight, her eyes widening in horror. They had only been to this safe house a couple of times, finding that the occupants were pretty self-sufficient and exceedingly well-armed (as it turned out, the previous owner of the house had been a military nut…) and figuring that their help was better served elsewhere. Never had they ever expected the Infected to take them on. They definitely hadn't expected them to win.

"Let's check for survivors," Dick suggested as he climbed the front steps, a knife already in his hand. "Eyes open. There could be some of Them left."

Artemis nodded and drew her bow, arrow notched and ready. It wasn't long before they came across the first of the bodies. Dick recognised Jerry Henelly amongst the dead, a GCPD Lieutenant before the Outbreak who had become the leader of this safe house. The further into the manor that the two of them explored, the more bodies that they found. The refugees had been completely overrun. The attack must have happened fast, when they were least expecting it – very few of the victims had been armed and most of them were in their bedclothes.

"It happened early this morning," Dick surmised as he knelt down beside one of the bodies and took a guess at time of death. He looked around and spotted the mother from the day before that he had witnessed killing her infected child. "That woman was at the aid drop yesterday. She was one of the last to leave."

Artemis furrowed her brow. "You think that They followed her?"

"I think that it's possible," Dick replied as he stood up again and studied the damage. "This attack looks planned, co-ordinated…"

"But the Infected don't think," Artemis pointed out. "That's the whole point of the virus, right? It destroys higher brain function…"

"Initially," Dick agreed. "But They've evolved since the Outbreak. They started growing teeth and claws, and now… now I think They're getting smarter. Learning."

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Well that sounds great. Good thing that They'll all be gone tomorrow night, I don't even want to know what They'll develop next."

Barely perceptible above the sound of the wind buffeting the building, Dick could just make out the light patter of footsteps on the hardwood floors. Instantly he was on alert, his eyes darting to each of the entrances into the hall that they were in. Artemis was quickly behind him; her shoulders pressed against his back as she tried to decide where to aim her bow. "Where's it coming from?"

Dick focused his senses as he had been trained, but the echoing around the manor prevented him from pinpointing where the footsteps were approaching from. "Don't know."

"See, this is why I hate rich people houses!" Artemis hissed, just as the first of the Infected poured into the hall. Immediately, arrows and knives were flying as the two heroes tried to hold back the horde. But the Infected had the advantage of superior numbers and soon they were being overrun.

Dick drew the twin knives that had replaced his escrima sticks a long time ago and resorted to close range fighting. He ducked and weaved and slashed, all the time aware of Artemis holding her own as she used the combination of shooting her crossbow and battering with her compound bow. But it quickly became very clear that this was a battle that they could not win. "There's too many!" Artemis yelled over the snarls and growls of the Infected.

"Find a way out!" Dick called back as he ran up the wall, flipped, and landed behind two dock workers. He skewered them both through the spine, and then pulled the knives out just in time to slash the throat of a woman about to claw his back. "High ground!"

Another man appeared on Dick's right, and he made to backswing his blade into the man's chest. However, the man caught his wrist and dug his claws into Dick's flesh, making the hero drop his knife. A young girl in a supermarket uniform grabbed his other hand as he tried to stab the man clawing his wrist, and then both of them sunk their teeth into the thick leather of his jacket. However, instead of hitting flesh, the two Infected found the armour plated arm-guards Dick had sewn into the fabric.

An arrow sprouted out of the checkout-girl's head, releasing her grip on the hand that was still armed. Instantly Dick slashed at the man, who quickly stopped gnawing on his jacket and danced out of range. And then while Dick was distracted with the five or so other Infected that really wanted to eat him, the man simply watched.

"Need a hand, Dickie?" Jason called as he dropped from a line attached to the ceiling and offered a hand that Dick quickly took. It was as they were propelling upwards, that the man made his move. He jumped, higher than should have been possible, and sunk his claws into Dick's jacket. Reacting instinctively, the hero kicked the man hard enough to loosen his grip and drop him back down to ground level.

Once they were high enough, the two former-Robins swung the rope to give them the momentum needed to flip onto the balcony that overlooked the hall of seething Infected below. Artemis was already there and then the three of them were running through the upper-level of the manor. They headed towards the window that Jason had used as an entrance, the opening right next a mature cherry tree that they scaled down.

They didn't stop until they had left the Upper East Side behind them and climbed onto the rooftop of a convenience store in Coventry. It was then that Dick realised that he didn't feel so good. His head was spinning and it was taking him way too long to catch his breath.

"Were you following us?" Artemis demanded of Jason, but Dick couldn't really hear them.

"Well, couldn't have you leaving town without me now, could I?" Jason retorted. "And besides, I just saved your ungrateful ass!"

"You're the ass here, Todd!" the archer yelled right back.

Dick tuned them both out completely as he felt the blood running down his sleeve and dripping from his fingertips onto the roof. Apprehensively, he slowly looked down at the wound just inside his elbow, right between the two armour plates in his jacket. He ran tentative fingers over the jagged edges of the deep wound, confirming one of his worst fears. It was a bite mark. He was…

He squeezed his eyes shut as he reached into his jacket and drew _that_ gun. The cold metal felt far too heavy in his hand. He clicked the hammer back, the echo sounding far too loud.

"Grayson?" Artemis called uncertainly.

Could he do it?

* * *

 

**May 16th 2014  
Seven Months Earlier**

"Just put him out of his misery already," Jason insisted as the pair of them listened to Bruce Wayne's groans of pain and agony from the lab down the hallway of Wayne Tower. "There's hardly any of him left by now anyway. Why put him through this?"

Dick chewed his lip, and then flinched as Bruce screamed. "There… there's still a chance… Wally…"

"Has been working on that cure for three months now," Jason finished. "Even if my some miracle he did manage to complete it before Bruce is totally brain dead, it's already too late. The virus has already done its work, Dick. Face it. Bruce is gone. You've just got to go and make it official. Pick whatever 'humane' way you want, just stop his suffering."

"I-I can't…" Dick stammered. "Not when he's still…"

"When he's still Bruce?" Jason demanded incredulously. "Are you really that selfish Grayson? You're gonna wait for him to turn completely? You're gonna let him go through hours of torture as his brain slowly dies just so that you don't have to look him in the eyes when you do it? Will that make it easier, you reckon?"

Dick shook his head, but couldn't find the words to actually deny it. "I'm not like you, Jay! I can't just be all cold and put a bullet between his eyes!"

"Then let _me_ do it!" Jason retorted, un-holstering one of his guns threateningly. "If you want to keep your angelic hands clean so damn bad then step aside and let the blood soak mine!"

"Like Timmy's?" Dick asked, purposely stepping in Jason's way and keeping him from storming into the lab where they were keeping Bruce.

"The replacement?" Jason snorted derisively. "That was a mercy!"

Dick gave Jason a disgusted look. "He had only just been bitten!"

"Exactly!" the second Robin yelled. "He didn't have to go through this! Aren't you glad that you didn't have to listen to that brat's screams, huh? Don't you get it Grayson? The moment that they get bit, they're already lost. All you're doing is clinging on to false hope and putting them through an unnecessary hell."

They glared at each other in silence for a moment, as Dick tried and failed to swallow the truth in Jason's words. "It's not false hope," he said eventually.

"You're hopeless. And the worst part is, you don't even realise it," Jason huffed in disbelief. "You know what – you can stay here and listen to him then, because I can't. You remember as you watch him turn into one of _those things_ that this is _entirely on_ _you_."

Dick closed his eyes in frustration as he listened to Jason's footsteps recede and the door slam behind him. He took a deep breath to try and get his racing thoughts and turbulent emotions under control, psyching himself up to go and see the man who had become a second father to him.

"He's wrong you know," a sultry voice broke through his thoughts.

Dick blinked at the woman who had just materialised seemingly from nowhere. Selina Kyle, once known as the infamous Catwoman – sometime enemy, sometime ally to Batman – looked at the younger hero sadly. She was dressed classily, as always, but Dick could see the redness in her eyes from where she had been crying; the only crack in her near perfect mask of indifference. "Is he though?"

"Yes," Selina insisted. "You know how stubborn Bruce is. He'll keep himself together long enough for West to finish the cure. He keeps things so deeply repressed anyway the virus probably can't even find most of his memories to erase."

Dick gave small smile, though it quickly vanished. "Am I just being selfish? Making him go through this just so that it will be easier in the end?"

Selina stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Dick. You're not being selfish. You're holding onto the hope that there won't _be_ an end. There is nothing wrong with having hope, Dick."

"Even if it's false?"

Selina gave him a hard look, vaguely reminding Dick of his mother when he used to get in trouble as a kid. "It is _not_ false hope. There _is_ a chance. I don't care if it's a long shot – I am betting on that chance."

Dick's eyes dropped to the carpet as he wondered if he could believe that strongly that things would work out. He had always been logical, relying on what he could see; and the facts were telling him that that long shot was in no way a safe bet. So if he was losing hope in that slim chance… why couldn't he do what his logical mind was saying he had to?

"I… I care about him, Dick," Selina muttered hesitantly, as if afraid that her admittance to her feelings would somehow be overheard and used against her. "And I care about you too. I know that neither of you deserve this, but that's life. It's just a series of crappy situations – how you deal with them is what makes you who you are. You're a good person, Dick. You'll do the right thing."

But was there even a _right_ thing to do in this situation? Dick thought to himself as Selina disappeared as silently as she had come.

Reluctantly, Dick started walking towards the lab; hearing Jason and Selina's words echoing around his head, the cacophony mixing with Bruce's cries of pain. It was impossible to think straight as guilt, anger and indecision raged within him, the apprehension making him feel physically ill as his feet carried him closer to his destination.

The automatic door opened with a hiss as Dick stepped across the threshold into one of the most advanced labs on the planet. Everything was sterile white and chrome and the room always smelled a little odd because of all the chemicals. Hunched over one of the desks was Wally, his red hair dishevelled and a couple of days' worth of growth stubbling his chin. All around him was a mess of organised chaos of apparatus, scribbled notes and samples, as his hands moved at super speed across the desk.

Along one wall was a large observation window with a view into the examination room that neighboured the lab. Visible through the glass was a contraption like a dentist's chair. Strapped to it was a writhing Bruce Wayne. Dick had to drag his eyes away, not wanting to see his guardian of eight years like that.

"Hey…" Dick began but was instantly cut off.

"No it's not ready," Wally snapped. "Trust me; you would know if it was. I'd be running around in celebratory circles and singing at the top of my voice. As I am not doing that, it's pretty safe to say that no, it's not ready."

Dick bit back the angry retort that his currently short fuse wanted to yell back, knowing that his best friend was under a lot of pressure. Ever since the Outbreak, Wally had become increasingly withdrawn as his obsession with the cure grew, but Dick had learned to forgive his friend for his tirades. It would do no good for Dick to start an argument now. Wally _was_ that outside chance that they were banking on after all.

"Right," Dick muttered instead. He chewed his lip for a moment, before forcing himself to walk up to the door beside the observation window, his hand resting on the cool metal of the handle.

"Hey, Dick," Wally called, prompting the dark-haired teen to look back. For the first time in days, Wally's hands were still and he was turned away from his desk. His exhaustion-ridden green eyes met Dick's blue, and for a moment it was if they had never grown apart these last few months. "Good luck."

Dick nodded, and then slowly opened the door and stepped across the threshold. He let it shut with a subdued click behind him and then leaned back against it, not wanting to get any closer. Dick studied Bruce from a distance, his heart breaking as he saw what his father-figure and mentor had become. As he watched, Bruce quietened down, his breath coming out in pained gasps. His wrists were rubbed raw from fighting against the restraints, and his teeth were stained red from where he had bitten his tongue to quell some of his screams.

It took a good five minutes for Bruce to even realised that he was there, which was nothing like the Bruce that Dick knew. He looked over at his ward, a spark of recognition flashing in his paling blue eyes. "Dickie…?"

Dick blinked back tears, and forced his voice to come out level. "Yeah, Bruce, it's me."

"I remember that day…" Bruce muttered distantly, his head turning away so that he could stare at the wall. "The only reason I remember your name."

Dick didn't know what to say to that, so he just said nothing, not trusting himself not to breakdown right then and there.

"I remember a Barbara and a Jason…" Bruce continued. "Remember the bad days. I remember the fucking Joker. He shot her. Killed him. Yes. I remember the Joker. Don't remember the name of my first pet, but I remember that psychotic asshole…"

"It was Great Dane called Titus," Dick found himself saying, as if he could somehow give Bruce his memories back to him. "I wanted a dog when I was ten, and Alfred told me about yours. Then I went running into the cave to tell you that I wanted a big dog too so that I could call it Titus the Second, and that its codename would be Bathound. For some reason though, you didn't go for it."

Bruce chuckled roughly, as if he had forgotten how to laugh properly. "I don't remember that," he said after a moment, his voice full of melancholy. "I don't remember anything good. All that's been taken away. Now I've just got the darkness."

They fell into silence for a while, the void only broken by Bruce's low groans and laboured breathing. After a few minutes, Bruce called Dick closer. The teenager hesitated for a moment before he grudgingly took the few steps between them. The moment he was in reach, Bruce grabbed Dick's wrist, making the young boy flinch in surprise. "I've got nothing left, Dick. There's nothing left for a cure to save…"

"I-I can't!" Dick recoiled at the implied suggestion, but couldn't get free of Bruce's iron grip on his wrist. "Bruce, please…"

"Just give me the means to do it myself," Bruce pleaded, his once blue irises now pure white as the virus worked its way through his system. Dick stared down at his guardian in horror, not able to believe what he was hearing. No matter what, the Batman never quit. But then again, there wasn't a lot left of the Batman. Bruce probably didn't even recall his alter-ego. "There's a gun in Lucius' desk, second drawer down on the right. Just leave one bullet in the chamber, untie my hand, and walk away Dick. Please."

Dick shook his head. "N-no… Bruce I c-can't!"

"Dick, please. Let me do this," Bruce begged – and since when did Batman _beg?_ "Before… before I forget how. Before I'm gone completely."

"Bruce…"

"Please. Let it be on my terms," Bruce's grip on Dick's wrist was getting painfully tight, and Dick could feel himself panicking. He was hyperventilating and sweating and desperately wanted to be anywhere but there. He couldn't do this. He couldn't deal. He couldn't be responsible. "Please, Dickie…"

"I'm sorry…" Dick whispered as he wrenched his arm free and staggered backwards. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! I can't!"

Before he had even made the conscious decision, Dick found himself running. He escaped the constraints of the lab, missing the remorseful look Wally flashed his way before the dark-haired teen vanished through the door. He collided into Selina in the hallway, but didn't stop to apologise. He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he had to get away. He barrelled through the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time, not stopping until he had slammed through the roof access door and he realised he had nowhere else to go.

The air was thin and cold that high up, and strong wings mercilessly buffeted Dick as he slowly stumbled right up to the roof edge. He was all too aware that one strong gust and he would be taking a long trip to hell. He wouldn't even know when he hit the concrete. It would just end.

Dick looked down at the street so very far below and wondered, if he had to… if he was in Bruce's position… if it was the best option…

Could _he_ do it?

* * *

 

**15.00pm  
Twenty-Eight Hours to Detonation**

Dick pressed the barrel to his forehead and curled his finger around the trigger. He was vaguely aware of Artemis skidding onto her knees in front of him, her eyes widening when she took in the bite wound on his arm and put two and two together.

Could he do it?

"Dick, please don't," Artemis murmured, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "You don't have to… Babs… Babs has been working on the cure… maybe…"

That's what they said every time. They had argued it when Tim had been bitten, long after Jason had put a bullet in his twelve-year-old skull. It was the long shot when Bruce was begging for it to end, before he had gotten free and taken Selina's life. It was what Wally had said as he had tried to save himself before Artemis had been forced to kill him as well.

Every single time it had never worked. Every time one of them was forced to get blood on their hands. Dick knew that Wally's last moments haunted Artemis every time she closed her eyes. Hell, he saw Bruce's face every night – that moment when he had been forced to make a choice. He was sure even Jason felt bad about Tim…

It was better, for _them_ , if he just did it himself. That was why he kept the gun on him in the first place. The gun that he had used to kill Bruce. One bullet in the chamber.

But could he _really_ do it?

"Please, Dick," Artemis pleaded as she lightly placed a hand over his and worked to gently loosen his grip on the weapon. "Please… give me the gun…"

Dick closed his eyes and focused everything he had on pulling the trigger. But his finger refused to co-operate.

He _couldn't_ do it.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered as he allowed Artemis to take the gun away from him. She threw it aside as if it were a hot coal that hurt her to touch, and then she wrapped Dick in a tight hug, burying her face against his shoulder. "I tried… but I can't…"

Dick felt Jason move from where he had been frozen on the rooftop, the second Robin covering the distance between them in a moment and placing his own gun flush to Dick's head. Artemis felt Dick still in her arms and pulled away as she heard the click of the hammer. "Jason, no…" she breathed as she looked up at him.

Dick couldn't bring himself to find the words to save himself. Logically, he knew that if he couldn't take his own life, someone else would have to. Perhaps it was better to do so sooner rather than later. And maybe Jason… the only one of them who was a killer before the Outbreak… maybe he was the best one to do it. Maybe he would be better able to deal with the fallout.

"You really want to kill him?" Artemis asked darkly, almost daringly, and Dick could sense the slight hesitation in Jason's trembling gun hand. "You really want to kill another brother?"

"Someone has to…" Jason replied, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "If not now…"

"Babs is working on the cure," Artemis said forcefully, though both boys could hear the undertone of desperation in her voice. She climbed to her feet and stood next to Dick's kneeling form. She put her hand on Jason's gun arm and pushed it down. "As long as there is a chance, I'm not letting _anyone_ kill him."

Jason glared at her as he holstered his weapon. "Have it your way."

* * *

**18.00pm  
Twenty-Five Hours to Detonation**

Barbara ran the computer simulation one more time, just in case. She watched as the program applied her latest version of the cure to a hypothetical subject, her eyes reading the data faster than it was being recorded. Then, just as it had the first time, the screen flashed red.

EXPERIMENT FAIL

Frustrated, Barbara dropped her head onto the keyboard, several keys sinking under impact and making the computer beep in annoyance.

"I don't think that's how you're meant to use a keyboard," Jason quipped as he leant against the doorframe of the lab.

Babs flashed him an evil look that would have made a lesser man quiver in fear. "I thought that you had run away like you always do Todd. You sticking around this time?"

Jason shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

Two floors down, Artemis had locked herself and Dick in the panic room where they had kept Wally in his final hours last time. The moment that the three of them had walked in two hours ago, Babs had known something was horribly wrong. She had taken one look at the bloodied bandage on Dick's arm and the defeated expression on his face – a look that she had _never_ seen before – and she had known. They were _this close_ to being free of this nightmare, but some vindictive deity just had to hit them with one last tragedy.

She was beginning to wonder if this would ever be over.

"So, what are the chances of this working?" Jason asked as he sidled up to her desk and leaned down to look at the computer screen.

Babs sighed heavily. "I… I don't know. Because of the new additions of teeth and claws to the transformation process, the virus is progressing slower than before, which is…"

Which is what? _Good?_ Yes, it gave them a little more time to work with, but it also meant that Dick would have to suffer for even longer. They had never observed the transformation process of the newer evolution of the Infected. They didn't know when the fangs would grow. They didn't know how the claws mutated from normal fingers. Yes, they had more time. But while Babs was working on the cure… Dick was going through _that_ …

"Different," Jason finished for her.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Babs asked, seeking out Jason's eyes and holding them.

"You sound like you wanted me to," he replied accusingly. Babs made no move to either confirm or deny it, and Jason sighed. He looked away, suddenly finding the desk surface absolutely riveting. "Artemis stopped me."

Barbara watched the younger boy as he deftly avoided her gaze. "Why do I get the feeling that that's only half the story?"

The two of them had never really gotten along. Jason had always been so different from her and Dick. He had come from a tough background; with a criminal father and a drug addict mother, he had been raised with a completely different set of ideals. Hell, Bruce had found Jason trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile. He was an angry kid with a whole slew of issues. And when he had died and came back? Those issues got multiplied tenfold.

But now Babs was seeing a side of him that she hadn't even thought existed. He looked his age. Young and uncertain and divided. "What's the real reason, Jay?"

Jason glanced at her, as if judging whether or not he could be honest with her. "I don't know. I… I know that I'm right. That what I did was a mercy… that it _had_ to be done…"

"You mean what you did to Timmy?" Babs asked, making the younger teen blink owlishly at her. "You said 'what you _did_ was a mercy'."

"Oh…" Jason murmured. "I… I… guess. I didn't really think about it then. I just saw that the kid had gotten himself bit, and I just reacted. But with Dick… it was… different, for some reason."

"Maybe because you actually _like_ Dick," Babs suggested. "It was no secret that you resented Tim for replacing you. And after what happened, everyone knows that you hated Bruce. But Dick…? I think you respect him."

Jason just shrugged non-committedly.

Barbara watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he would talk anymore, before returning her focus back to the cure. She barely paid Jason any attention as he found himself a chair and pulled it up to sit next to her. They sat in companionable silence for a while, purposely distracting themselves from thoughts of their friend going through torture two floors below.

After nearly twenty minutes, Jason eventually broke the silence. "Are you going to go see him?"

Babs shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

"Why not?" Jason asked. "I know that you're busy and everything…"

"I don't want to," Babs cut him off, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't want to see him like that. That's not how I want to remember him. I still see Wally… when he was starting to forget… I don't want to see Dick… disappear."

Jason nodded understandingly, and didn't push the issue any further. For that Barbara was grateful. She returned her focus to her work, though part of her already knowing that it was useless.

* * *

**21.00pm  
Twenty-Two Hours to Detonation**

Artemis pressed herself against the wall, curling up and making herself as small as she possibly could. Opposite her, Dick was screaming and thrashing about like a wild animal trapped in a bear trap. He threw himself back against the wall, and Artemis winced as she heard his shoulder pop out of place from the force of the hit. He then dropped to the floor, his screams quieting to pained moans as he clawed at the tiles.

It was horrific to watch, but no matter how much Artemis wanted to run away, she knew that she couldn't leave him. She _needed_ him to remember her for as long as he could. She needed to still be able to see Dick behind the ferocity of the transformation. She couldn't face the fact that he was fading away with every minute that passed.

She was neck deep in denial.

After a few minutes of listening to his laboured breathing gradually slowing to something a little more normal, Artemis finally found her voice. "Dick…? Dick… are you…?"

She was going to say 'alright', before she realised what a stupid question that was. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Artemis pushed herself onto her hands and knees and crawled the two metres between them. She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, and when he didn't react, she felt brave enough to brush the bangs away from his face.

He blinked up at her, the blue of his eyes completed faded to white, and Artemis felt her heart skip a beat. He was so far gone. Maybe… maybe she had been wrong to… stop Jason…

"Temis?" Dick slurred her name as if he couldn't quite remember how to pronounce it. "What'stime?"

Artemis furrowed her brow in confusion at the random question, but she dutifully checked her watch regardless. "8.15."

"Lessth-aday…" Dick whispered, and Artemis realised that he still remembered that Gotham was going to be destroyed tomorrow night. "You've'got to save'em… Arty. Theplan…"

Artemis tried for a sardonic smile, but it didn't reflect in her grey eyes. "You think quite a bit of yourself, don't you Grayson? You really think that I'm gonna let the plan fall apart because…"

She trailed off, realising the only that she could end that sentence.

Suddenly Dick cried out and clutched at his head, making Artemis scuttle back in surprise. He pressed his forehead against the cold tile floor as if he could pressure the pain away, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He bit his lip to stop the scream, but his newly sharpened teeth just shredded it, spilling blood down his chin.

Artemis reached out to comfort him, but he shied away from her touch and dragged himself over to the corner. He looked like a small child trying to hide away from some monster, his arm covering his head protectively, and his knees curled close to his chest. Artemis crawled over to the wall next to him, mirroring his position so that she could see his face pressed against the wall.

"Idon't…" Dick muttered abruptly, his face screwed up in concentration as he struggled to form a sentence. "Don't'member… theirnames…"

"Whose names?" Artemis asked softly.

"I see'em…" he continued as if she hadn't spoken, his eyes not meeting hers. "Theykeep… falling. Againandgain… theirnames?"

Artemis surmised that Dick was talking about his parents, and realised that he was reliving the day that they had died over and over again. His memories were slipping away, but the one that stuck around the longest was that one. How could she have put him through this?

"They're your parents," Artemis whispered, her voice breaking a little. "They were called John and Mary Grayson. You were trapeze artists at Haly's circus."

There was no sign of comprehension on Dick's pale face. His white eyes were unfocused and his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. He started rocking like a mental patient, his vulnerability making Artemis' heart shatter. This wasn't like Dick. He was always strong, sarcastic, cheeky, charismatic… He was the anchor that had kept her grounded when her emotions had threatened to sweep her away after she had lost Wally.

Tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, Artemis crawled back to the opposite wall and leant against it. She pulled out Dick's gun that she had picked up from the rooftop, feeling the weight of the icy steel in her hands. One bullet in the chamber.

It would be a mercy. She _knew_ that. But she still couldn't do it.

Just like Dick had been unable to kill Bruce. Just like she had been unable to kill Wally. Just like they had all struggled to kill the Infected in the beginning.

They weren't killers. They were heroes. She couldn't _murder_ anyone.

Only in self-defence.

* * *

**00.00am  
Nineteen Hours to Detonation**

Jason slowly walked down the corridor towards the panic room, not entirely sure why he was. When he had killed 'the replacement', he had run away for two weeks, hiding out in some old factory down by the docks. When Dick had refused his help in putting Bruce out of his misery, he had disappeared for three days. When Wally was going through the change he had gone out hunting and hadn't come back for over a month.

But this time, he had stuck around. He didn't know why. Maybe Babs was right and he just liked Dick more than the others. When he had first taken up the mantle of Robin, Dick was the one that had trained him while Bruce was being his usual broody self. Dick had become like a brother to him – they sure as hell argued like siblings.

But Jason didn't usually go for something as trivial as sentimentality. Emotions, feelings… that was Dick's forte. Jason was meant to be the coldblooded killer brought back from the dead. He didn't get attached.

So why was he still here? Why wasn't he off waiting for the fallout to pass? Why was he going to visit his dying brother?

Why did he want to say goodbye?

Jason hesitated briefly at the door, before he growled at himself to grow a set and typed in the passcode. He closed the door behind him, finding himself in a small room cast in the low yellow glow from the battery powered lights. Near the door, Artemis was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs and her head resting against the doorframe. She had fallen asleep, though the gun was still held ready in her hand.

Stealthily, Jason stepped past her and knelt down beside Dick who was tucked in the far corner. Blood stained his chin from where his fangs had split his lips. His hands were curled into tight fists against his chest, his new claws digging into the flesh of his palms as if he had stubbornly tried to prevent them from growing.

"Dickie?" Jason whispered, careful not to wake Artemis. Dick's eyes opened, and Jason could see the red beginning to bleed into his white irises.

"Prihor…" Dick muttered. "Mymother… prihor… numele meu…Robin… de ce did'he giveyou… nemele meu?"

Jason squinted at the older boy as he tried to figure out what the hell he was saying. He knew that English was not Dick's first language, so he figured that as the virus dissolved the last of his mind, Dick's grasp of the English language would go faster than his native tongue. But Jason wasn't exactly fluent in Romani. "Robin?"

"Robin," Dick echoed absently, probably not even aware that he was speaking. "Nemele meu. Why did'he giveyou… my name?"

Jason finally got what Dick was muttering about, vaguely recalling an argument he had overheard in his early days as the second Boy Wonder. Dick and Bruce had been in the cave yelling at each other (something they tended to do quite often…) and Dick was insisting that Bruce give Jason a different name. 'Robin' was the name his mother had used to call him. That was why he had chosen it. Bruce had no right to just give it away to some other kid.

Jason chuckled quietly. "Wow, you must really resent him for that, if that's the last thing that you remember… Do you even know who 'he' was?"

Dick just looked at him blankly, and Jason realised that his brother was too far gone. He reached out and briefly squeezed the older teen's arm. "Goodbye, Dick."

Jason stood and walked back over to the door. Just as he was leaving, he barely heard Dick whisper back:

"Adio frate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS: (Courtesy of Google Translate – Romanian)  
> Prihor: Robin  
> Numele Meu: My Name  
> De Ce: Why  
> Adio Frate: Farewell Brother


	3. DAY THREE

**02.00am – December 26th 2014  
Seventeen Hours to Detonation**

Artemis woke slowly, her body complaining from the mistreatment of being forced to sleep sitting up, her fingers cramped around something cold and metallic in her hands. She blinked a few times to get her sleep-filled eyes used to low light, before she realised where she was.

Instantly, she was on her guard. She forced her uncooperative feet to fold under her in a crouch, her arms held out straight before her as she held the gun in a two-handed grip. Her grey eyes settled on the only other occupant of the panic room, her senses on alert for any signs of attack.

She was afraid.

She was afraid of Dick Grayson. Nightwing – hero of Bludhaven, former Robin and her best friend of five years. They had been through so much together; they had seen each other at their best and worst. _Never_ had she ever been afraid of him. But now as she crouched there in the darkness she could feel her hands shaking and the cold sweat beading on her forehead. Her breath came in short, quiet gasps; apprehension and anxiety driving her abused emotions over the edge.

He stirred slightly, and Artemis suddenly realised that he was watching her. She could just make out the glint of the red irises as they stared at her, a cold shiver running down her spine.

Why… why hadn't he attacked already? He had fully turned, Arty wasn't stupid or naïve enough to believe otherwise, but he had made no move against her. She had been asleep, defenceless… pathetically easy pickings for a creature of instinct. So why was she still breathing?

She shouldn't have allowed the hope to blossom in her chest. But she did. Cautiously, she crept a little closer to him, the gun lowering as she reached a hand out towards him. His eyes watched her warily, but he still didn't move. "Dick…? Dick… are you…?"

It happened so damn fast. One moment she was crouched before him, the next she was pinned under him, his claws digging deep into the soft flesh of her arms and his face mere inches away from her neck. Artemis let out a startled scream, and then brought her knee up into his gut and flipped him up and over her head. He landed hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs, but he was recovered and moving again in an instant.

Artemis grappled for the gun that she had dropped, but it was knocked even further out of her reach as he lunged at her and tackled her back down to the floor.

They had sparred together hundreds of times over the years. They were both excellent fighters. They were highly skilled, tactical thinkers that could analyse and take down practically any opponent with the right strategy. But strategy had absolutely nothing to do with this fight. He was completely wild, his body vaguely recalling the moves but his virus addled brain unable to use them efficiently. And Artemis… well she was too busy panicking and trying desperately to stay alive to think of anything beyond the string of curse words currently parading through her brain.

She hit him with a roundhouse kick hard enough to daze him. He fell back against the wall for support, shaking his head like a dog that had just run into a glass door and couldn't figure out why it hurt. Artemis took the opportunity to get some distance between them. She cartwheeled back to where she had started, picking up the discarded gun and landing in a ready stance, her whole body shaking violently.

He seemed to recognise the weapon in her hand; at least enough to know that it was bad for him. He stayed against the wall and stared at her, like a lone wolf sensing a stronger predator. He growled threateningly, baring his fangs at her.

Tears began to well up in Artemis' eyes as she tried to strengthen her grip around the gun and still her shaking hands. He took a small step towards her, eliciting a strangled sob from the archer. "Please…" she whispered, even though she knew that it was useless. "Please, Dick… please don't make me do this…"

Something flickered across his red eyes, too quick for her to translate. And then he was launching at her; his claws outstretched to rip her to shreds and his mouth open in a feral snarl.

It was self-defence.

The gun exploded in her hands, the boom deafening and the recoil shocking her backwards against the brick wall. The air was full of red rain, the liquid feeling warm against her frozen skin.

He crumpled to the ground with a sickening thump, becoming completely still. Never to move again.

Artemis forgot how to breathe. She sagged against the wall, her legs no longer able to support her weight. When she finally released her breath, it came out as an agonised wail. Sobs of horror and guilt and pain wracked through her slight frame. Tears fell down her cheeks in thick rivers, mixing with the blood.

She watched as he gradually reverted back into Dick. The teeth and claws vanished with barely a trace, the red eyes fading back to a sightless blue. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, blood pooling beneath his head.

Maybe half an hour later, Artemis found the strength to move. She crawled over to him like a small child who had yet to learn to walk and knelt by his side. She gently closed his eyes and then leaned down to press a kiss against his cool cheek. "Shhhh…" she murmured as she combed her fingers through his messy hair. "It's-s over, D-Dick… you can rest-t n-now."

Slowly, she lowered herself down so that she was laying by his side and rested her head against his shoulder as she had every time the nightmares had haunted her. She closed her eyes as she remembered the gentle rise and fall of his chest and subtle thumping of his heartbeat that she had listened to until she had fallen asleep.

But her imagination couldn't make up for the terrible silence that really met her as she rested against his cooling corpse.

* * *

**06.00am  
Thirteen Hours to Detonation**

Jason watched the sun rise over the last day of Gotham City from his perch on the roof of one of his safe houses. He had finally obeyed that gut instinct of his to run away from difficult situations, and after visiting Dick a few hours ago he had found himself walking aimlessly through the streets.

As the midnight blue began to bleed into a burnt orange, Jason had climbed the building's fire escape and found himself enthralled by the winter sun. He didn't know whether to be sad or elated that this was the final day of his home town. He wasn't sentimental by nature, but as he stared at the once bustling city he couldn't help the memories that assaulted him.

He could see the clock tower in Old Gotham where Dick had taken him on his first night as Robin. Jason had ignored his lecture about instincts or whatever and had quickly zip-lined away to find his first fight as a vigilante. He never had been very good at taking advice. Maybe if he had listened to Dick that night things could have been different. Maybe he wouldn't have died.

Barely visible through the morning fog, Jason could vaguely see the slums of Crime Alley where he had spent his less-than-stellar childhood. He wouldn't be sad to see that go, he figured.

But there was still something about the city that he knew he would miss. The place had that kind of aura about it, as if it had seen every horror possible and yet defiantly stood tall. In less than thirteen hours, it wouldn't be standing at all, and yet there was still something so stubborn about it.

Jason shook his head, wondering where the weird thoughts had come from. He wasn't one to stop and take stock of the things around him. He didn't get attached to things, or people. He was a survivor – even death had only been a temporary setback for him.

Speaking of surviving, it was time to get moving. He hitched a backpack full of supplies onto his shoulders and then began the short trek back to Wayne Towers. He didn't particularly want to go back and face the music. It would be over by now, he knew, but emotions would be running high. He didn't deal over well with feelings. Especially women and feelings.

He snuck through the barricades and defences that protected the sky-cave from the Infected and then walked through the empty lobby. He remembered the first time that Bruce had taken him to Wayne Towers. He had been silently impressed by all the grandeur and the respect all of the employees seemed to have for his new guardian, though he had outwardly been a moody teenager the entire visit. As Jason stepped into the elevator, a small smile graced his lips as he recalled the irritated look Bruce had continually sent his way that day. It had always been so fun to tick the Bat off.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he heard the sobbing immediately and cringed. Taking a deep breath to ready himself, Jason walked towards the room that had become Barbara's tech-pad, and instantly knew that he was way out of his depth.

The place was a complete mess, as if a mini-tornado had whipped through and destroyed everything. The network of computers were smashed and useless. The extensive chemistry set had become a colourful stain on the carpet. Papers were scattered everywhere. And lying on the floor in the middle of it all was Barbara Gordon.

Her chair was upended, one of the wheels knocked out of kilter and squeaking as momentum kept it turning. A good few metres away from it, Babs lay amongst the broken glass, ignoring the small cuts that nicked her body as she wept against her folded arms. Jason hesitated for a moment, having absolutely no idea what to do. He dropped his bag on the floor with a loud thump, but she gave no move to indicate that she was even aware that he was there. He took a few cautious steps towards her, his boots crunching in the debris, and then he knelt down beside her.

"Barbara…?" Jason said quietly as he reached a hand towards her shaking shoulders. He pulled back at the last moment, not knowing if he should touch her. What the hell was he supposed to do? "Babs…?"

Slowly, Babs turned her head so that she could look up at him. She took in his blue eyes and dark hair, probably noting how similar he and Dick looked despite all their differences. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as fresh tears dripped onto the leather of his jacket. Jason froze for a moment, taken completely by surprise and feeling ever-so-slightly awkward. But then some inner voice told him to hug her back, and he gently held her quivering form.

It oddly felt… right?

"He's… _gone_ ," Barbara sniffed between sobs, and Jason felt his own sadness threaten to overwhelm him. There was something just so final about the way she had said it, and it began to sink in for him that Dick Grayson was really dead. "I… heard the… shot… He's…"

"Shhh…"Jason hushed, his hand seemingly moving on its own to reach up and stroke her hair. He didn't really do physical contact, and he definitely wasn't one for giving comfort, and yet somehow his body seemed to know what to do.

They stayed like that for a while; the pair of them rocking gently on the floor until eventually the tears stopped falling. And then Jason scooped her up and into his arms and placed her into a normal chair that had somehow survived the carnage around them. He knelt down before her and used his thumbs to brush the tears from her cheeks, having no idea that that was exactly what Dick had done for her the day before. She looked down at him as if only just seeing him for the first time, staring into his blue eyes until he felt uncomfortable and had to look away.

"What… what are we going to do now…?" she asked after a moment, her voice sounding thick with sorrow and defeat. "Without…"

"We'll survive," Jason replied, making Babs give him a strange look. "We stick to the plan, even without… You know that he'd never forgive us if we just quit now. You're stronger than you think, Babs. We can do this."

Barbara swallowed the lump in her throat. "You… you sound just like him…" she whispered, making Jason blink in surprise. That was something that he had never been accused of before. Dick had always had a way with words, somehow always knowing the right thing to say – which was the polar opposite of Jason. He had a tendency to just stick his foot in it. And yet, for some reason, right then, he knew what to say. "You really think that we can?"

"I know we can," Jason said with a small smile, knowing that the words were true, not just an empty promise. "So… you ready to blow this dump?"

Babs nodded, and then remembered her slightly destroyed wheelchair. "Umm…"

"Don't worry," Jason cut her off before she could ask, and the stood up and retrieved something from the cupboard in the corner. It was a harness cobbled together from several belts and straps so that Jason could carry Barbara on his back and still keep his hands free. "It's not the most dignified form of transportation, but it will do in a pinch. Dick always did think of everything."

Babs studied the harness that Jason handed to her, and then looked up at him with a guilty expression. "Are you… are you sure about this? I don't want to weigh you down…"

"And I don't want Dick to haunt my ass for the rest of my life because I left you behind," Jason retorted with a smirk, making Babs give a small snort of laughter at the thought. They both knew that Dick would find a way to make them pay if they dared to do anything so stupid. Jason grabbed up his abandoned backpack and began emptying the supplies onto Babs' cleared desk. "Now, do you want to help me make some bombs?"

"Absolutely," Babs replied as Jason scooted her chair up to the desk so that she could reach. And then they spent the next couple of hours building the explosives they would need to blow the Novick tunnel and get the hell out of dodge before the bombs rained down on Gotham.

They worked in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts as they tried to keep themselves focused on the task at hand. They tried not to think of those that would not be seeing the uninfected world ever again, but as they sat there, they couldn't help but recall their lost friends. First Tim, then Bruce and Selina… Wally and… Dick. It was hard not to imagine how different this day would be if they were all still alive. How different the last Christmas of Gotham could have been.

At about eleven o'clock, half an hour before they were scheduled to meet up with the other refugees, Artemis finally appeared.

She looked terrible. Her hair was messily drawn back into its usual ponytail, and her bow and quiver rested over her army jacket. But it did nothing to cover the bloodstains on her shirt. Dick's blood. She was covered in it, the dried dark patches stark against the dirty white fabric. It was still on her hands. But she gave no indication that she even realised it was there. Her cold, grey eyes were dry and her lips were set in a thin line of grim determination. No one in their right mind would try and take her on right now.

She took one look at the two of them and the bombs that they were packing away and asked, "Are you ready to do this?"

The last three heroes of Gotham were about to take their final stand.

* * *

**13.00pm  
Six Hours to Detonation**

The battle for Novick Tunnel was a bloody affair.

It started off well enough. One hundred and sixty-three uninfected citizens of Gotham took to the streets as one, marching with purpose and caution towards their salvation. Over half of them were armed with whatever weapons they could get their hands on – some of the makeshift soldiers were just children… but no one argued, no one said a word. It was all hands on deck.

When they reached the tunnel, everyone knew what they were doing – Dick had made sure of that. The non-fighters took shelter behind the concrete blockade that divided the two lanes of traffic through the tunnel, while anyone with a weapon created a horseshoe-shaped defensive line around the entrance. The handful of explosives experts that they had found took the supplies from Artemis and quickly set to work.

The winter afternoon was quiet, a cold breeze blowing in from the river and chilling the survivors as they stood on alert for any sign of the Infected.

With Barbara on his back, Artemis had insisted that he stay back and protect the people working on the tunnel. He had begrudgingly agreed, and Babs had whispered an apology in his ear. As he stood at the foot of the rubble landslide that blocked their escape, Jason watched Artemis take the front and centre of the defensive line, her bow held ready. Sensibly, no one had commented on her blood-stained appearance. Anyone could sense the foul mood radiating from the archer.

And then they heard Them.

How the Infected knew where they were, no one really knew. Maybe they really were getting smart that Dick had thought, sending scouts to secretly follow them. Or maybe they could just sense the largest concentration of fresh food that they had seen in a long time. Whatever it was, they were coming.

All of Them.

Artemis stood tall and glared straight ahead, as if daring the Infected to come and get her. "This is it," she announced, her voice carrying easily amongst the survivors without her really raising her voice. "This is the last stand of Gotham. No matter what happens next, know that you are fighting to save what is left of our city."

She glanced around, meeting every fighter in the eye. "Remember, if you get bitten, you stay behind. This is non-negotiable. Absolutely no Infected will leave this city. Understood?"

Jason was beginning to think that Artemis had missed her calling as an Army General or something. She was cold, firm and demanding, and yet she commanded the respect of every single person gathered there behind her.

Within a minute, the horde was upon them. They snarled and growled and clawed at the fighters, but the Gothamites retaliated with feral attacks of their own. Some people fought from a distance, holding the final line as they picked off the Infected with hails of burning lead. The front line fighters shouted defiantly as they battled with knifes and baseball bats and hockey sticks. Some of them had even fashioned themselves muskets, sharp blades duct taped to the end of their rifles.

"I can't stand here and do nothing," Jason hissed, his hands curling around his twin handguns as he watched two of the fighters go down under the Infected onslaught.

"Then let's do something," Babs replied, unholstering her own gun. Jason gave her a sideways look, her face very close to his from where she was strapped to his back. She had never been a fan of firearms before the Outbreak, but he knew that she had been learning to shoot while she was holed up Wayne Towers – he had even given her a few pointers. "Get to high ground."

Jason did as he was told, and climbed up the concrete blockade, barely hindered by Barbara's additional weight at all. And then the two of them started shooting, strafing a line of destruction through the Infected ranks.

As Artemis fought, her anger and pain took control. She slashed mercilessly through the horde, every arrow that left her bow and every slice of her knife trying to somehow chip away at the rage and guilt inside her heart. She was unfocused, which some small part of her knew was a bad thing, but she was somewhat making up for it with her brutality and unpredictability. That was until she got too caught up with beating the life out of an Infected man and was completely blind to the one sneaking up behind her.

She felt a ripple in the air, her instincts warning her at the very last moment and making her whirl around in an attempt to defend herself. She would have been too late. She would have had a pair of wicked fangs bone deep in her wrist. She would have stayed and burned in Gotham City, if it were not for the man who put himself in the way.

She didn't know who he was, but she recognised him from one of the safe houses. She knew that he and Dick got along pretty well – they had gone to school together or something. But Artemis didn't know him, and she didn't understand why this stranger would use his own body to shield her. The Infected man's fang sank deep into his shoulder.

The two of them worked together to kill the Infected man, and then they both paused in the middle of the battle to look at each other. "What happened to Grayson?" he asked, completely ignoring the bleeding wound.

"He got bit," Artemis replied succinctly, not trusting herself to explain further without the dam that was holding back her emotions breaking open.

The man nodded. "I guess that makes two of us."

They shared a look, the two of them communicating so much in that millisecond that they didn't need any more words. And then they fought back to back, both of them tearing through the Infected with ruthless determination.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" someone shouted, and Jason quickly jumped down behind the blockade with the non-fighters to protect Babs. The explosion shook the ground and blasted debris into the air. The force of the shockwave knocked some of the fighters and a good few of the Infected off of their feet, but everyone was up and moving again in an instant.

Jason climbed back up and surveyed the handiwork of the demolition experts. They hadn't cleared the entrance completely, but they had blown a good size hole out of the top. A short climb up the mountain of rubble and freedom was in sight. "Start rigging the other side!" Jason ordered, and the workers quickly scrabbled up the debris and vanished inside. He then turned to look down at the non-fighters who were staring at him expectantly. "It's time to get out of here people! Come on, move!"

Immediately a flood of people began clambering over the concrete blockade, the small children scaling the structure like monkeys while the older kids helped the elderly. They ran up the mountain of rubble and ducked through the hole, all of them disappearing into the tunnel faster than should have been possible.

Jason slipped down last, and stood at the base of the tunnel entrance. "Pull back!" he yelled at the fighters, who quickly followed his orders and began to retreat. What remained of the horseshoe-shaped defensive line shrunk down as their numbers thinned down. Seventeen of the fighters made no move to leave, and Jason realised that they had been bitten. They would hold off the Infected long enough for everyone else to escape.

"It's ready to go!" one of the explosive experts yelled down through the hole, and Jason did a quick sweep to make sure no one was going to be left behind who didn't have to. And then Babs pointed to Artemis who was still battling as if she hadn't even heard the order to pull back.

"Arty!" Jason shouted. He knew that she hadn't been bitten. He had been watching as he had been forced to fight from a distance. But it was almost as if the archer wanted to stay and fight until the last. But that was something that Jason knew Dick would never allow. "Arty! Come on, we gotta go!"

The man that had saved her life seized Artemis by the arm and shoved her back towards Jason. The ex-Robin grabbed the archer and held her back as she attempted to jump right back into the fight. But Jason wouldn't let her go and dragged her up the rubble, having to bend awkwardly at the top in order to get all three of them through.

They skidded down the other side and made it a safe distance away. "Blow it!" Jason ordered, and a moment later the sunlight was blocked out as the doorway to Gotham was closed for the final time.

Flashlights illuminated the dusty and bloody faces of the survivors as they waited for their next orders. Jason found it odd how they all automatically looked to the three teenagers. He had never even worked with them like Dick and Artemis had – he had been all for his own survival the past year. And yet, as he stood there before them, he kinda got why the two heroes had fought so damn hard to protect them.

Artemis stepped forward, the crowd of people parting like the red sea in order to let them pass. Jason wondered if they knew that they were in the presence of an ex-Robin, Batgirl and Artemis, though he doubted those old identities meant a whole lot to anyone anymore. Heroes didn't need to wear masks and capes in a city on the verge of collapse. The people recognised their saviours – ordinary people who had stepped up when no one else would. It… it felt good to know that he had played a part in their survival.

The three of them led the charge back to civilisation, the hundred and fifty-odd survivors of Gotham City following behind them. They paraded through the tunnel, every step taking them a little closer to freedom.

After the darkness of the tunnel, the setting sun that greeted them on the other side was painfully bright. They stepped out into the free air, enjoying it for but a moment before reality came crashing down around them.

Barricades were lined up in a semicircle around the tunnel entrance, a sea of armed police officers and soldiers aiming hundreds of gun barrels in their direction. Helicopters flew in formations overhead, snipers ready to take them out. A man with a bullhorn yelled for them to stop advancing, his panic and fear audible even through the static. Artemis came to a stop and raised her hands above her head, every single person that followed behind her copying her.

This was it. This was the moment that they were either killed on the spot, or welcomed with open arms. It was out of their hands now. It was down to fate, and the words of the Big Blue Boy Scout that descended from the sky.

The entire Justice League followed behind Superman, several members of the young justice team dotted among them as well. They settled on the ground in a line between the refugees and the soldiers, creating a buffer.

Jason had no idea what Supey said next, but he knew for sure that this nightmare was finally over.

* * *

**19.00pm  
The End of Gotham City**

Somehow, Superman had gotten through to the people. The refugees of Gotham City were allowed to live. Tents were erected in less than ten minutes in order to process the survivors. They were allowed in one by one while men with guns glared at them threateningly until they were cleared. All one hundred and forty-six people were confirmed to be uninfected and welcomed back into the general populace.

Artemis had wandered away from the crowd and found herself a place to watch the fireworks from the river bank. She stood there, alone, in the chilling wind as she stared at the tall towers of the city for the very last time.

And then she heard the hum aeroplane engines in the air. She heard the whistles of multiple bombs being dropped. She felt the shockwave of hot air and dust even across the water as the city vanished in a fireball of destruction. She could hear the screams of the Infected as they burned.

She stared at the flames, oblivious to the tears that rolled down her cheeks and cut rivulets through the grime. She imagined Dick where she had left him in the panic room of Wayne Towers, a sheet covering his cold corpse. Now he was being cremated – finally put to rest after nearly of year of constant suffering and heartaches.

She couldn't help but feel a little jealous of him, even as the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. For him it was over. _Truly over_. While she was left behind to deal with the fallout.

She wasn't sure that she could handle it.

"Artemis…?" a voice called hesitantly behind her, a voice that the archer hadn't heard in such a long time that it made her heart ache. She turned her head slightly to invite the green-skinned Martian over to her perch and watch the thick clouds of black smoke billow into the evening sky. They stood in silence for a good five minutes, neither of them really knowing what to say.

What was there to say?

M'gann dragged her eyes away from the destruction and turned her back on the city so that she could focus all of her attention on the girl she had quickly come to think of as her sister. She reached out and pulled open Artemis' jacket, taking in the blood stains and confirming that they weren't hers. Quietly, the Martian asked "What happened to Dick?"

She had been told about the others. She had heard the horror stories that were the last moments of the third Robin, Batman, Catwoman and Kid Flash. But from the last communication they had received through the blackout, Nightwing had not been among the casualties.

"I killed him," Artemis murmured, making M'gann's eyes widen. "We were so close. We were so close to all being free. But then he got bitten. We… we tried to come up with a cure… like always. I… should have known. I shouldn't have put him through that. I should have made it quick for him. He deserved that."

M'gann studied her best friend, shocked by how much she had changed in the past year. Artemis was cold and hardened by her experiences on the outside, but past that exterior, M'gann could see just how shattered she was within. She couldn't imagine the hell that Artemis had been through, no one could unless they had lived through it themselves, but M'gann could feel the waves of regret and anguish radiating from her honorary sister.

"I wanted to stay behind," Artemis muttered suddenly, breaking the terrible silence. "I should be over there amongst the flames. It should be over for me too. I just want it to be over."

"Artemis…" M'gann whispered on the verge of tears. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?" Artemis asked with a callous shrug. "It's true. Wally… Dick… their blood is on my hands, _literally_. I don't know how to deal with that out here. It's not about survival anymore. I'm… I'm a murderer, M'gann, not a hero. How do I deal with that? How can I just forget what I've done?"

M'gann gave her head a small shake in disbelief, and then she grabbed Artemis by the shoulders and shook her. "If they could hear you now, Arty! After everything you all went through – after all the sacrifice and pain to get you here, now, free at last – are you really going to stand there and tell me that you've given up? Are you going to throw it all back at them, just like that?"

"You don't understand," Artemis snapped, ripping herself out of the Martian's grip and staggering backwards. "You don't know how many lives I've taken! You don't know what I've had to do!"

"Exactly, Arty. What you _had_ to do," M'gann said forcefully. "In order to survive. And you did it. You walked out of that hell because you did what you _had_ to do. Do you really want all that to be for nothing?"

The two girls glared at each other for nearly a full minute, the city burning in the background. From the impromptu camp that had been setup the sounds of a celebration reached them. The refugees of Gotham were dancing and smiling for the first time since the Outbreak. The fact that there were even survivors to celebrate was because of her, Jason, Barbara and… Dick. They _had_ done something good. Amongst all the bad stuff, all the horror and loss and destruction… there was still something to celebrate at the end of the day.

M'gann reached for Artemis' hand and held it, making the taller blonde meet her eyes. "If Dick were here; what would he say to you right now?"

"Get traught."

M'gann smiled sadly. "Get traught," she echoed. "I'm not going to tell you that the pain is going to go away, Arty, but it will get easier. We'll never forget what's happened and the people that we've lost. We're not going to quit either. So get yourself together, and let's keep walking together."

Artemis studied M'gann for a moment, and then pulled her into a tight hug – clinging onto her new lifeline as if afraid to let go.

One hell was over. And now Artemis was beginning to think that she might just survived the next one as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the occasionally stodgy info dumps - they're only in the first chapter I swear!


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